Shadow Hunter
by Echo Scourge
Summary: Folgrim leaves Redwall on a quest for vengeance due to a vermin attack on the Abbey, which resulted in the death of his uncle, Skipper Warthorn, and numerous other Redwallers. The fates of two beasts, destined to clash, intertwine in a tangle of disaster, and, surprisingly, hope. Rated K plus for violence.
1. Chapter 1

** Prologue**

Folgrim walked through the woods, his single eye set and determined. He was going to find those vermin and kill them.

His footpaws crunched through the underbrush of the dense forest, each step taking him further and further away from the Abbey. No matter. He would return, in time, with grand tales to tell of his adventures. Smiling at the thought of his revenge, he spun his axe in a circle, picturing himself slaying imaginary enemies. Yes, he was going to kill them. He did not forget the beasts that the vermin had slain on that night. Redwall had been lucky to fend off the attacking rats. His brother, Tungro, had sustained a gash in his arm, but it would heal. The same could not be said for some unfortunate others.

Folgrim doggedly trudged through a set of large bushes, following the vermin's trail. It would not be long before he found them. His lamed footpaw slowed him down a considerable amount, but he would not-no, he _could not_ stop. Not for anything. The otter used his axe to aid himself over the last few branches of the bushes. It was a beautiful day, but Folgrim paid no attention to the clear skies, or the cool, crisp air, or the gentle breeze. All he could focus on was one thing-revenge. Revenge for Skipper Warthorn. Revenge for the Dibbun who had been hit by an arrow, revenge for the mole he had been too late to save...

Folgrim hardly noticed the rustling in the treetops until he heard a high-pitched cackle above him.

Jerking his head up, the otter, startled, found himself looking straight into the eyes of a Painted One.

"Cheeheehee! Gotcha now, rivvadog! Rememba me? Choohoohoohooo!"

There was a flash of steel and a sickening pain exploded in the back of Folgrim's head that gradually took over, blotting out his senses and enveloping all else in a heavy blanket of darkness.

**This is the first actual fanfic I have posted on this site. I apologize, but updates will be irregular due to my overloaded schedule. I will try to update every Sunday, but there is no guarantee, sorry. :(**

**So, please review! Tell me what you think!**

**-Echo Scourge**


	2. An Unexpected Ally, Chapter the Second

_Pain._

Folgrim awoke to a dull roar in his head. Waves of nausea surged through him, threatening to carry the otter back into unconsciousness. The pain in his head made it hard for him to think_. _Where was he?

Then, he remembered. Redwall. The fight. His uncle. Leaving the Abbey. The trek through the woods. The rat. The pain...

Folgrim groaned as a fresh stab of pain broke out in his head. He tried to touch the wound, and realized that he could not because his paws were bound tightly behind his back.

As he regained his senses, he grew more aware of what was going on around him. He was lying face-down on the forest floor. It was about mid-afternoon, by the heat of the sun, but the otter was unable to open his good eye, which was swollen shut. Folgrim began to wonder where his axe was. And where were the rats? That Painted One had looked oddly familiar...

He could faintly hear pawsteps in the distance, getting closer every second. Was it the rats, or some otherbeasts? Folgrim could not tell.

This was not good.

The otter heard a whistle of steel in the air, and suddenly felt the vine ropes fall, severed, from his paws. He was dimly aware that he was free. Folgrim willed his limbs to do something, to run, but for some odd reason they would not. His head wound clogged and clouded his thoughts.

He felt himself being roughly hauled up by somebeast. Leaves and twigs stuck in his fur as the beast dragged him upright.

"Get up, otter, and open your eyes. I won't stand here all day."

A rough voice, though obviously a female's, cut through his stupor. He tried very hard to open his good eye, and managed a feeble squint. The beast who had rescued him was a tall, slim cat, who looked as though she was rather battle hardened, even though she appeared to be young. Folgrim observed that she also carried a knife.

The cat licked her knife, her mismatched eyes glinting.

"Now, do I kill you, otter, or do I let you live? Hmmm..."


	3. A Chance of Redemption

**Hey guys!**

**Thanks so much for reading this story. I apologize for the microscopic chapter lengths and irregular updates, but hopefully both things will get fixed soon. I will have more time to write very soon and will make the chapters longer. Also, I will try to update either on Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays. Special thanks to ferretWARLORD for reviewing the last chapter.**

**Thanks again,**

**-E.S.**

"It would be so easy to gut you right here," the cat mused, nonchalantly twirling her knife. "Then again, after all the fuss I went through to rescue you, it'd be a shame to kill you now."

"You...rescued me?" Folgrim asked, astounded. His head was beginning to feel a bit clearer.

"'Course I did," replied the cat. "I wasn't about to let the vermin eat you, even if you are an otter. Generally, I only help other cats escape from the Painted Ones, but I felt bad for you."

Folgrim brushed dirt and leaves off of his fur. "And your name is...?"

"Maud. Maud Greenhawk."

"Well, nice knowing you, but I'm afraid I have a little job to do. Which way did the rats go?"

Maud shook her head, smiling. "You won't catch them. They go through the trees. Only Shadow Hunters can follow them and keep up with the speed they go at. They may be vermin, but they're clever little scrawfonks, all right."

"First of all, that's not a nice name for a young 'un like you to be sayin'. Second of all, what's a Shadow Hunter?"

"A cat with more speed, strength and agility than other cats. They're generally black-furred, like me, but there have been exceptions." Maud answered. She put her knife back in a sheath that hung from her belt, which Folgrim took as a sign of peace.

"So you're a Shadow Hunter?" Folgrim inquired.

"Yes, I am. And a right old mess I'm making of it. The other cats I live with, the Mist Watchers, are disappointed with me. They say I'm not being the 'honorable feline, who protects innocent creatures from grim death' that I'm supposed to be. My ma is upset because I'm not the young lady she expected me to grow up to be. She wants me to be a princess who occasionally defends beasts from enemies, and she used to spoil me rotten, but she stopped when she realized that I was too rugged to be a princess. Now, she's just mad at me. I can't do anything right in her eyes. Can't cook a fish, can't throw a slingstone, can't sweep the top-tree. From her, it's just 'Maud, don't do this!' or 'Maud, come back here!' or 'Maud, don't you dare!' I'm tired of it. I probably wasn't meant to be the Shadow Hunter, but I am, and that's that."

"But you can track the rats, right?" Folgrim asked. He was beginning to think that he was asking way too many questions.

"I guess I could, if I wanted to. Why are you so interested in them?"

"I have a score to settle with the rats." Folgrim growled. "They recently went on a raid and attacked Redwall Abbey, killing many Redwallers, my uncle among them. I'll kill them all if it's the last thing I do..."

"I understand what you mean, but if you want me to track them, then it would be better if I went alone...er...what's your name?" Maud questioned in a slightly annoyed tone.

"I'm Folgrim, and if you don't take me with you, I'll chop you down with my axe."

"And what good would that do?" Maud laughed softly. "You wouldn't have me to track the rats for you. You won't find them on your own. And besides, you don't even _have_ an axe." she pointed out.

Folgrim checked the belt of his tunic. "You're right. The rats must've taken it. Another reason why I need to kill them."

"Would you stop thinking about killing things and listen to me for one second? If you insist on coming with me, I guess I can't stop you. But we need to wait before we start tracking them. We need a plan. Think about it for a moment. Let's say I tracked them down right now, and we both started killing every Painted One in sight. It wouldn't be long before we were overcome. There's only two of us. Even though I share your hatred for the vermin, you can't just barge into their camp and kill them all. It's not that simple. Trust me, I know these rats."

"Then what are we going to do?" Folgrim sighed, frustrated. One part of him said that the cat gave good advice, but the other part wanted to ignore it.

"We can't do anything when you're hurt." Maud said, in a "don't-mess-with-me" sort of tone. "You should be fine by tomorrow morning, but let's just wait until then. Just relax and try to sleep, all right?"

Folgrim was about to protest, but Maud silenced him with a glare. The otter realized that she had a good point. He was feeling rather drowsy.

He sat down and leaned against a tree, checking it first to make sure there were no ants on it. He'd made that mistake more than once...

Folgrim closed his eye, and before he knew it, he fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

Maud looked at the sleeping otter. It would be so easy to just run off on him, but she pushed the thought from her mind. She'd helped him once, and she would help him find the vermin as well. She felt that it was the right thing to do. Also, she had been doing way too much running off on beasts lately.

She had run away from her tribe that morning. The cat was tired of making mistakes, day in and day out. She concluded that her tribe would be better off without her. What she had done was probably the most dishonorable thing she had done that week, possibly the most dishonorable thing she had done in her life. Then again, she had done quite a few dishonorable things in her lifetime...

Maybe helping this otter was a chance to redeem herself.


	4. The Start of the Journey

"Folgrim."

_The otter was walking in a green meadow, full of cowslips and beautiful wildflowers, the names of which he could not recall. Everything seemed to be enveloped by a golden haze._

"Folgrim."

_Someone was calling his name. He couldn't find them, no matter how hard he searched. _

_Then, a blaze of white light flared across the meadow, so bright that even when Folgrim shut his one good eye, he could still see the light through his closed eyelid. Just as suddenly, it grew dimmer, but it kept on radiating light although it was no longer blinding._

"Folgrim."

_Folgrim cautiously opened his eye. He could not believe what he saw in front of him. _

"Martin? What are you doing here? Is this a dream?" _he asked incredulously._

_The warrior mouse put a finger to his lips and smiled. _

"Of course it's a dream, Fol. Listen to me. Trust the cat. She means well, even though she is flawed."

"I'll try to trust her. But if this is a dream, then why are you in it?" _Folgrim inquired._

_Martin smiled again, almost apologetically, as he and the light around him began to fade._

"In time, you may learn. But for the time being, promise me you won't go looking for those rats. Promise me, Fol..."

* * *

"Folgrim. _Folgrim!_ I've been calling you for at least half an hour!"

Folgrim opened his eye, awakened by the strident voice of his new friend and the heat of the morning sun on his face. He sat up so quickly that he almost head-butted Maud in the gut. The otter felt marvelously fresh and free of pain.

Folgrim sniffed the air, which carried the delicious aroma of herb-cooked fish.

"Before you ask, I've been keeping it warm for you. But you'll have to walk over to the fire and get it yourself. I'm not your maid." said the cat as she examined the forest floor for something.

"Fine." The otter stood up, wincing as his lame footpaw sent an ache up his leg. Oh well. It hurt less than that head wound did.

Folgrim noticed that Maud had built a small, rock-encircled fire pit in the middle of the clearing, which he quickly limped over to. Crouching down by it, he scraped some hot ashes away from the bottom and discovered a long parcel wrapped in leaves. He assumed that was the fish.

Unwrapping the leaves, Folgrim found half of a pike inside, stuffed with delectable herbs and spices.

"You got me a pike? How'd you catch that monster?" Folgrim gaped. He knew that _he_ would never try to catch a pike, especially not a full-grown one like this.

"Shot it with an arrow. Now eat it fast. We've got things to do today." came the reply.

Folgrim was intending to make a remark about Maud's attitude, but his hunger got the better of him. He hadn't eaten since the day before yesterday.

The otter took a gigantic bite of the fish, tearing the flesh with his sharpened teeth and savoring the exotic flavor. As Maud had said, it was still warm, and even though Folgrim preferred fresh meat, he was greatly enjoying the cooked pike.

"AHA!" Maud shouted, just as Folgrim took another bite. The otter drew in his breath and inhaled several pieces of fishmeat.

Folgrim gasped for breath and managed to get enough air to cough out the pieces of meat. They landed somewhere in the grass next to him.

"Maud, you nearly made me choke! I hope it was worth it!" Folgrim accused, still coughing.

"Of course it was worth it, you silly. _Now_ we've got a real chance against those rats!"

Folgrim turned his head to look at what Maud had pulled out of the underbrush. It was a simple longbow and a quiver of arrows that appeared to be fletched with the black feathers of a carrion crow.

"These arrows are tipped with some of the deadliest poisons in Mossflower. That's why I wear these gloves all the time; I don't want to risk accidentally touching my mouth or something after I've touched these. Don't worry, I didn't shoot the pike with them," Maud said hastily, seeing Folgrim's horrified face. "I just use these special ones whenever I'm on a death-track mission. I normally hide my weapons in various places around the forest, but it sometimes takes me a bit of time to find them again, 'cause I have to hide them so well."

"I take it you're a good archer, then?" Folgrim asked, nibbling on the fish and taking care not to breathe in.

"Aye, I guess I'm all right," Maud replied, totally without pride. "I mean, I can get my own food with a bow whenever I need it, so I'm a pretty decent shot."

"Are we tracking the rats today?" asked the otter, again getting the impression that he was asking too many questions. His mind suddenly flashed back to the dream he had, the one with Martin in it.

"If you want to," Maud answered.

_I'm sorry, Martin, but I've got to do this. _"Yes, I do."

"Then gulp down the rest of that fish and get moving. We don't have all day."

Folgrim complied, tossing the damp leaves back in the fire pit. Seeing that the ashes inside were cold, hard, and not liable to start a woodland fire, he pushed the rocks around it into the pit and covered the whole thing up with dead brush. Dusting off his paws, he smiled grimly.

"Well, let's get moving. I'm ready."

Maud shouldered her bow and her quiver and set off at a brisk pace in a north-eastern direction. "This way."

As Folgrim followed her, he had a feeling that he was making a big mistake.


End file.
